Aurora (2025): A Haunting Tale of Light, Darkness, and Redemption
Aurora (2025) is a gripping psychological thriller with supernatural undertones that explores the fragile boundary between reality and illusion. Directed by acclaimed filmmaker Jennifer Kent, best known for The Babadook, this haunting drama combines emotional depth, striking visuals, and atmospheric storytelling to create a film that lingers in the viewer’s mind long after the credits roll. Set in a remote northern town bathed in the eerie glow of the aurora borealis, the film uses its natural setting as both a source of beauty and terror — a mirror of the human soul in turmoil.
The story follows Dr. Elise Morgan (played by Florence Pugh), an astrophysicist recovering from a personal tragedy. After losing her husband in a mysterious plane crash over the Arctic Circle, Elise isolates herself at an observatory in northern Norway, where she studies the phenomenon of the aurora lights. But as the nights grow longer, she begins to experience strange visions and unexplainable sounds that seem connected to the shimmering lights above. When she encounters a young girl who claims to see “voices in the sky,” Elise is drawn into a chilling mystery that blurs science and the supernatural.
As Elise investigates further, she discovers that the auroras may not be a simple natural phenomenon, but a gateway — a conduit between the world of the living and the dead. What begins as scientific curiosity soon becomes a desperate journey for truth and closure. The deeper she delves, the more the past resurfaces: memories of guilt, grief, and unanswered questions about her husband’s final moments. Each revelation pulls her closer to a confrontation with forces beyond human understanding.
Cinematically, Aurora is stunning. The cinematography, handled by Greig Fraser, captures the stark beauty of the Arctic landscape — endless snow, frozen lakes, and dancing curtains of green and violet light that illuminate the darkness. Every frame feels painterly, with light itself serving as a character: sometimes comforting, sometimes ominous. The visual contrast between warmth and coldness reflects Elise’s internal struggle between acceptance and despair.
The film’s sound design is equally mesmerizing. The aurora emits an almost musical hum that evolves throughout the story, blending with the haunting score composed by Hildur Guðnadóttir. The music shifts between fragile piano notes and deep, resonant tones, evoking the feeling of being both lost and guided in the endless night. These sonic layers give Aurora a sense of hypnotic unease — it’s less about jump scares and more about an overwhelming, emotional dread.
Florence Pugh delivers a tour-de-force performance, portraying Elise as a woman torn between logic and faith, intellect and emotion. Her descent into obsession feels both terrifying and deeply human. The supporting cast, including Mads Mikkelsen as a reclusive Arctic guide and Anya Taylor-Joy as the mysterious young girl, adds richness to the story’s psychological and mystical dimensions.
At its core, Aurora is a meditation on grief and the search for meaning in loss. It asks whether the dead truly vanish — or if, like the northern lights, they remain, flickering just beyond our perception. The film’s ending is both tragic and transcendent, leaving audiences questioning what they have seen and what they believe.
With its blend of science, spirituality, and suspense, Aurora (2025) stands as one of the year’s most visually poetic and emotionally haunting films — a luminous reminder that even in the darkest skies, light always finds a way to return.
